The Bella Hour
by DreamQuill
Summary: The death of his younger brother leaves retired military Colonel Edward Cullen dead inside. He finds comfort in his strict schedule & the clock. The only time he experiences any pleasure is during 'The Bella Hour'. OOC, NC-17, AH,
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _**_This story is only for Mature adults. It contains disturbing language and imagery. Please read with caution._

* * *

><p>5:30 AM Wake up<p>

6:00 AM Running and exercise

7:00 AM Shower and get dressed

7:30 AM` Eat breakfast and Misc.

8:30 AM Arrive at office

12:00 PM Lunch

12:30 PM Answer personal emails

5:00 PM End workday

5:30 PM Errands

6:00 PM Watch television or play X-Box

**7:00 PM The Bella Hour**

8:00 PM Dinner and reading

9:00 PM Morning preparation

9:30 PM Feed the fish and lock up

10:00 PM Sleep

* * *

><p><em><strong>EPOV<strong>_

She's waiting for me in the parlor when I arrive. I don't bother taking off my jacket, instead choosing to walk up behind her and put my fingers where they've been dying to roam all day. Her insides are already scorching and damp for me.

Isabella Swan is like the finest Absinthe-good going down but will drive you mad.

We don't talk much outside of the needed commands. As I bend her over, I notice she has on the long blonde wig today. I prefer her natural brunette bobbed hair. I never complain, because what we have is too perfect to screw up by being picky.

_Sex, lust, fear._

Isabella takes the initiative and moves her garters aside. She's wearing black lace, which always drives me crazy. The bright lights in the room illuminate her porcelain skin-a perfect contrast to the darkness of the lingerie.

Before I can begin, I have to taste her. Slowly, I insert my middle finger deep inside her. Isabella wiggles a little, but she doesn't moan. I slide my finger out, lick the wetness, and insert it again. This time I use more force. When my finger can slide in easily, I stop and unbutton my pants.

Usually I change before coming over for the hour, but today I come to her still in my work suit. I know Isabella secretly likes it when I dress up for these _meetings_. I've seen the way her eyes devour me in the rare occasions I wear something formal.

I carefully fold my pants and put them on the antique footstool in the corner. My jacket, tie, and button-down are soon to follow.

Bella's parlor is fancy-like stepping back into the nineteen-forties. She meticulously collects fashionable furniture from all around the world to display in her home, although, I'm the only one she invites over.

"Edward."

The one word goes straight to my fully erect dick. She rarely speaks my name, but when she does I feel like I'm going to burst on the spot. I have so little self-control with Isabella.

With trepidation, I place my trembling hands on her shoulders to help turn her around. She raises her chest a little so she can wrap her full, red-painted lips around my cock. I know she wears that color-stay stuff women use to make sure their lipstick doesn't rub off. I'm not worried.

As Isabella's hot, little mouth engulfs me, I look over at the large round vintage clock. We have a little more than forty minutes left. The pendulum almost swings in time to Isabella's soft sucking noises-it's oddly comforting to me.

_Time is the only thing I can control_, I think warily.

Isabella is _always_ very determined. She bobs her small head up and down on my thick shaft. I hold her head down and feel her gag on my cock. I know I am large, and it can't be easy for her to fit my girth in that small mouth.

All too soon, her eager hands join the party. She relaxes her throat and lets me thrust deeply. It's the best feeling in the world. I tense up as I feel her manicured nails slowly scraping my danglers. She notices and pulls back, licking the long vein so I can catch my breath a little.

It isn't long before I'm leaking into her mouth. Without warning, she engulfs me again; this time humming a little as she goes about her task. I like the way she coughs and sputters as I go deeper down her throat.

_She is nasty._

As my balls tighten, I fight the urge to whimper. Soldiers do not whimper. I will not give her that power over me. It is bad enough I have to use an hour in my schedule to see her every day. I hate her for reducing me to this baseness.

At exactly seven-thirty-seven, I begin to orgasm. Isabella gathers the cum on her tongue and shows it to me. I wince and look away. She is always so vulgar at the end. I prefer not to see these things.

"Delicious," she says before swallowing.

A few minutes later she tries to stand, but I put pressure on her head while swiveling her around. She groans a little and spreads her legs for me. She's in the same position she was in before the blowjob.

Watching her shapely ass up in the air makes me hard again. I stroke myself while looking at the clock. We don't have much time left. Isabella does not care about the time, but I will not break my schedule for her.

I reach and pull her black corset down until her small breasts spill from the top. I do not remove the garment completely, because I like the way it shrinks her waist. She knows my preference and doesn't argue.

"I'm going to enter you now," I state coldly.

Isabella holds her breath until I am all the way inside her slickness. Then, she wiggles a little and adjusts until we're both comfortable. I hold on to her hips as I begin long, deep thrusts. Soon, I am sweating and groaning like a stuck pig.

_I hate her. I hate her. I hate her._

The only thing keeping me rooted to the Earth is the pendulum of the clock. I have to finish quickly, or I'll leave Isabella wanting. As much as I loathe her, she does not deserve that kind of torture.

Leaning heavily on her back, I begin stroking her clitoris. It's hard and protruding, letting me know that she is so close to her rapture. I press down and pinch it as I roll my hips around. She makes a dying noise as her muscles clench around me.

Sweat beads on my forehead as I notice the clock hit six-fifty. Desperate now, I lift her a little so that I can pinch her nipples with my free hand. The force of my pounding is so strong it makes Isabella's wig slip. She has not secured it tightly enough.

"Fuck," she screams, pushing back against me. I do not acknowledge that word.

At exactly seven-fifty-six, Bella falls apart. I close my eyes as her insides tighten and trigger my own release. I do not like coming inside of her so I pull out, letting my cum coat the expensive dark lace of her corset and underwear.

When I am done, I hastily throw on my clothes. Isabella keeps her body bent as she struggles to catch her breath. I loosen the corset a little to help her along. She gasps and inhales. I do not wait to see if she okay, because our time is up.

As I walk out the door, I gaze at the pictures of her adorning every wall. Isabella is a famous Burlesque dancer. She is here in Forks to clear her head and kick her addiction to pain medication. The only way I know this information is because even _I_ can't avoid all the town gossip.

At eight on the dot, I arrive back at my own home. One of the reasons I can do this is because we live very close. We have no other neighbors this far out in the woods. Isabella and I both have modern mansions. Most of the other townspeople live in old houses nearer to Main Street.

I go upstairs and clean up a little before making dinner. Tonight is fish and vegetable night. I do not taste the food going down, but I trust that it does its job of nourishing me. My dinner beverage is always lemon water.

As I eat, I read the local newspaper. There is some trouble with young people trying to start local gangs but nothing major. I have several guns and even a few grenades; therefore, I am well protected in case something goes wrong.

_Former Colonel, Edward Cullen can handle anything. _Those days are over. I am now a civilian.

While I load the dishwasher, I let my phone voicemail play out loud. I know I don't communicate as well as I should anymore. The Bella Hour is the most social thing I get up to these days and even we are strangers.

The first message is from my mom Esme, "_Edward, dear, please call to let me know how you are doing. Alice, Jasper, and their kids are coming this weekend. I would love it if you joined us for dinner. Call me, sweetheart."_

I press delete and start the next message. It's from my father. He's saying the same words as my mother, but I can tell he doesn't mean them. Carlisle will never love me again, because I failed to save my baby brother from the harshness of war. I can see it in Carlisle's eyes when he looks at me.

The rest of the messages are unimportant, so I delete everything and close the dishwasher. My mind tries to wander, but I keep myself focused. The dinner hour is over.

At nine, I begin getting my briefcase and notes ready for tomorrow. I'm meeting with a Russian firm that needs security for their Forex trading website. I own and manage a successful high-level internet security company. It's the only job I've felt qualified to do since I left the military.

_Don't think. _

Half an hour later, I go down to the den and get out the fish food. My Angelfish are awake and swimming happily. Their tank takes up almost the whole wall. The fish are one of the few luxuries I allow myself.

_Riley loved Angelfish._

Pushing the thought out of my head; I go back upstairs, lock the door, and get ready for bed. Before I close my eyes, I open my oak nightstand and take out Riley's Silver Star. It was awarded for _Gallantry in Action_. I miss my brother, but at least he died a true American hero.

Sighing, I put the medal away and close my drawer. I do not deserve to look upon my little brother's greatness. Sometimes I wonder if Isabella knows about my failure, though, we never talk about things like that with each other.

**~~~TBH~~~**

Wednesday morning and the routine begins again. Before long, I am in my office eating a bland protein bar as the tedium of the day wears on my fraught nerves.

My firm is one of the biggest employers in Forks, so I know everyone. Women flit through my office throughout the day bringing various things for me to sign. I know they often wonder if I'm gay, into kink, seeing someone, or a psychopath. I let them think whatever they want.

Today I can't concentrate on hacking and codes. I crave Isabella. It makes me sick to need her so much. For a minute, I even consider breaking my schedule and going to see her. I know she will not refuse me, but I do not like showing weakness.

By six, I am a wreck. I spend the whole hour pacing the floor instead of watching the evening news. Tonight, I'm wearing jeans and a tee shirt. I don't want Isabella to get spoiled into thinking I'll always dress up.

At five minutes to seven, the door opens. I go still as she enters the room. She is wearing a sixties style beige dress with a red belt around her waist. I can tell that she has forgone the corset. She isn't even wearing a bra.

Wordlessly, I take her hand and lead her up the stairs. She slips her red flats off before we enter my room. I fight the urge to smile because she is wearing her natural hair. I like that it's short and bouncy. Long hair on women is unattractive to me.

Isabella and I undress at the same time. I can barely concentrate as she pulls the dress over her head, exposing a red thong. My eyes lift slowly, taking in the flush of her pale skin and the hardened nipples.

"Where?" Bella asks. She knows I like to choose her position.

I point to the bed and say, "Lay down," as I finish taking off my jeans.

I am too wound up to wait, so I eagerly climb into bed. Isabella spreads her legs and looks up at me as I guide my cock head inside of her. I purposely avoid her stare-she sees way too much of me. I can't give her anymore than sex.

A little later, Isabella throws her head back as I fully penetrate her. Her mouth opens in a silent scream that quickly becomes real and loud. Gritting my teeth, I put my large hand over her pale pink lips. Soon, she closes her eyes and goes still.

_I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. _

I'm very glad she doesn't make me use condoms, which have never liked. Isabella sleeps with other men, but I do not want to know about them. She promises me she is safe, and we are regularly tested. In the two years we've been doing this, I've never caught anything from her.

Right now, the urge to kiss Isabella is strong. I remove my hand and lean down. Then, I brush my firm lips against her supple ones. I do not take it further. She bites the corner of my mouth and smiles gently. I do not like to see her happy, so I look away.

We establish a slow, steady grind. I keep my forearms on either side of Bella's head and my eyes on the nightstand clock. We have thirty minutes.

All of a sudden, Bella groans loudly and her inside juices coat my shaft. I pinch her nipple while raising her arms over her head. She shudders violently, almost knocking me completely off of her body. Somehow, I hang on and manage to hold her in place. I am not ready to finish.

"Say it. I need to hear it, Edward," she moans, bucking her sweaty hips against me.

I hate this part. I am not the only one with a messed up head. Isabella also has needs that are not easy and comfortable. I know I am not worthy to touch any woman, so I give her what she wants.

"You are ugly. I hate you. You are the vilest whore known to man. It disgusts me to see all this fat on you," I say in a monotone voice, pinching her waist. In truth, there is no fat. Isabella is perfectly proportioned-like a fancy doll.

"Yes! More!"

"I wish you were dead," I whisper sadly.

She screams and finds her second orgasm. I do not know why Isabella needs to hear these words, and I don't ask. I am just happy she doesn't make me do this all the time-it only happens about once a month.

Later, I'll feel awful and only eat half my bland supper as punishment. I deserve to go to bed hungry for what I just said. The only part that was true is my hate for her, but that's my fault not hers. Of course I don't ever tell her these things.

It's six-forty eight. I have to wrap this session up, so I raise Isabella's legs and place them over my shoulder. She whimpers as I really begin pounding her. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall is loud in the otherwise quiet room. I make a mental note to move it later.

For the next five minutes, I watch my glistening shaft slide inside and outside of Isabella's pink folds. She's muttering and cursing under her breath as I play with her clitoris. I long to taste her again, but there isn't time. I never understand how an hour with her can go so fast but yet so slowly with everyone else.

Watching Isabella bite her lip, I come gloriously-squirting my seed all over her lower stomach. She dips her finger into the thick globs and begins licking it all up. I find it disgusting, so I look away as she finishes the task.

"Edward, I have a favor to ask," she says slowly.

I hold up my hand and roll to the side. "I can't. We have a deal, remember?"

Silently, she nods and goes into the bathroom. When she returns, she slips on the dress, places her underwear into a small purse, and walks out of the room. I stare at the clock and wait for the last two minutes to pass.

It's seven and Isabella is gone. I wish I could cry, but that is one of many emotions that I can't ever express. Instead I wash up and go downstairs for dinner, remembering to cut the portion in half.

Halfway through the hour, my cock begins to rise. Not bothering to leave the table, I unbutton my jeans and let it free. I think of Isabella's lips and breasts as I stroke my shaft. I use the pre-cum as a lubricant and squeeze until I ache.

_I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.._

Thankfully, there is an overhead clock. I focus on it as I begin to orgasm. It's eight-forty two, and I'm miserable. Groaning, I stand up and go to the bathroom to wash myself. Then I return and load the dishwasher.

Everything continues in the same manner until bed time. I fight the urge to call Isabella, but the need wins in the end. She doesn't answer her phone, so I go to the window and pick up my binoculars. I am somewhat of a voyeur, and Isabella indulges me.

As usual, her balcony curtains are open. I watch as a muscular man opens the doors. They are now outside. Bella is wearing a robe. The guy quickly slips it off of her and drops to his knees. Her nakedness is magnificent under the full moon. The way her hips flare out from that impossibly small waist drives me insane.

I open my window so that I might hear and see better. Isabella places her hands on the rails and looks over to my house. I watch her spread her legs as the mystery man explores her body. We lock eyes.

She's never let another man take her in front of me before-this both startles and disgusts me. I don't dare look away. I know Isabella needs more than the daily hour that I can give her.

_She hates me. She hates me. She hates me. _

The man doesn't know where to look, so he can't see me. Isabella smiles as he begins licking her flesh. I feel jealous, and that scares me to the bone. She is not mine. I can't let her have my schedule. She will ruin me.

After what feels like hours; the man stands up, puts on a condom, and aligns his dick. I see he goes for Isabella's _other_ hole. My eyes widen as he pushes into her. I watch her big hazel eyes roll back into her head. They fuck loudly. _Fuck_ is the only word I can think to describe it.

A little while later, I step away and lock the window. I can tell that Isabella is close, and I don't wish to see another man bring her to orgasm. She looks…hurt as I close the curtains. Internally, I smile.

**~~~TBH~~~**

Thursday is more of the same. I wake up and run like the devil is chasing me. The light drizzle feels good on my heated flesh. As I round the corner, I see the muscular man's car is still in Isabella's driveway. They're not even discreet enough to use the garage.

_Whore!_

At the office, I avoid people and concentrate on my work. Soon, I'll be able to hire another dozen people. If nothing else, my career is going great.

I do not think of Isabella, my family, or my dead brother.

Later, I rush home and watch television before going over to Isabella's house. When I get there, she is in her bedroom. Less than twenty four hours ago, I watched a man fuck her in the ass. I am livid, but I hide it well.

"I didn't think you'd come," she says, not taking her eyes off the fashion magazine she's reading.

Today she is wearing only a medium-length, curly red wig and white peep-toe heels. With her free hand, she twirls a blue glass dildo inside of her depths. I know she's been at it a while because her thighs are drenched and her nipples extended.

I shrug and remove my clothes. "Nothing better to do."

* * *

><p><em>Let me know how you liked my efforts to change it up and write in present tense. Thanks to Char and DCM for encouraging me to try new things as a fic writer. I'll be with the Stoli.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **The second part. I still have no plans to continue this but if the mood strikes I will write more. It's dark, gritty, and very explicit. Not for the weak hearts._

* * *

><p>5:30 AM Wake up<p>

6:00 AM Running and exercise

7:00 AM Shower and get dressed

7:30 AM` Eat breakfast and Misc.

8:30 AM Arrive at office

12:00 PM Lunch

12:30 PM Answer personal emails

5:00 PM End workday

5:30 PM Errands

6:00 PM Watch television or play X-Box

**7:00 PM The Bella Hour**

8:00 PM Dinner and reading

9:00 PM Morning preparation

9:30 PM Feed the fish and lock up

10:00 PM Sleep

* * *

><p><em><strong>EPOV<strong>_

When I arrive, she is sitting on the couch in a long, blue anime-style wig and schoolgirl skirt. She hasn't bothered to put on a top. I watch her breasts bob as she tries to sit still. Like me, Isabella is never at ease or comfortable in her own skin. The things she has told me make me think that she was made this way by a horrible childhood, though, I never pry.

"Hello," she mutters, pointing to the seat next to her on the couch. I know then we will not have sex tonight. Sometimes we are not in the mood, or Isabella is on her menstrual cycle.

"Do you want me to go?" Even as I ask the question, I hope that she will say no. I hate her for making me this pathetic.

She shakes her head and says, "Stay. We can watch one of my vids."

Inside, I am in tumult. Isabella's burlesque videos are bad. Her mother edits them so her supposed flaws are highlighted with red circles. She is very good and has a perfect hourglass figure, but in her mother's eyes she is competition.

The music begins, and Isabella walks out on the stage. From the look of the audience, I can tell she is somewhere in Asia. She starts to sing an upbeat cabaret song and dance around stage. When she pulls her long gown up to reveal her shapely legs, the crowd cheers.

"This one is Tokyo, five years ago. I had to stay out of the sun for three months to keep my skin as pale as possible. Mother made me eat nothing but white food."

A part of me wants to ask if _white food_ means drugs. "Please stop talking. I don't want to know too many details. We've discussed this before, Isabella."

Her stormy eyes snap to me. "Fine. I'll just get on my knees and blow you. That's all you're here for anyway."

I nod. "I don't like you or enjoy your company. We fulfill each others needs-nothing more and nothing less."

She is a little rougher than usual as she unzips and takes me out of my starched pants. I have not changed after work. The day has been stressful, and I need the distraction. Before I can form a coherent thought, Isabella's mouth is engulfing me.

I place my hand on the back of her neck and push down until she gags. I feel so good when I'm in her mouth. It is almost easy for me to believe I am not a failure. Although, I absolutely loathe Isabella as a person, she is good at her work. It is no wonder men have paid her for it. Hell, she is practically built to be a life-size sex doll.

I feel that I am close and reach down to pinch Isabella's nipples. She moans around me and lightly scrapes her little teeth against my shaft. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood as the orgasm washes over me. Again, I come in her mouth and she swallows it like a nasty whore.

"You can go now if you want," she mutters, standing up. There is a little cum in her wig and it sits crooked.

I look at the clock. "We still have about twenty-five minutes. I can do you."

Instead of answering, she disappears upstairs. I use the time to clean up and get a bottle of water. Isabella's kitchen is pristine, because she rarely eats and never cooks. I sit and stare at the bowls full of fruit and nuts that will likely spoil. She sometimes gives it to me or donates to a food bank.

Ten minutes until eight, Isabella returns. She has a large bottle of vodka. I watch her take a handful of pills and drown them with the liquor. I have seen her high before, so this does not surprise me. I am not sure if Isabella is actually addicted to pain medication but I suspect it; though, I should not care.

"It's for the cramps," she says. As if that's an explanation.

I stand up and walk towards the foyer. "We can cancel the hour for the next few days. I have a business trip out of town this weekend, so I will probably not see you again until next week."

I am opening the door when I feel her hand on my shoulder. She looks up at me, still naked from the waist up. "In Tokyo, I met a man named Jacob Black. He was wealthy, and I let him own me for a year. We fucked like farm animals. He was possessive and used his fists and a belt to keep me in line. I got pregnant with his child, but he made me abort it. He said I would make a horrible mother."

I cover my ears and hiss. "I don't want to know!"

Silently, she reaches behind her back and pulls out a huge black leather belt. "Use all the hate you have for me in your heart and hit me. I promise not to make a sound." I am not surprised-she has asked me to punish her on numerous occasions.

I lift the belt, feeling the weightiness of it in my hands. Isabella is down on her knees in front of me. She bows her head and waits for the first blow. All I can do is stare at her and the heavy object in my hand. She wants me to be a monster like Jacob Black, but I will not oblige.

"Don't ever show me this again," I say quietly, before throwing the belt down and leaving.

Then I run full speed to my house and collapse against the front door. I rub my head until the image of Isabella kneeling on the floor is gone. She can drown in her pills and booze for all I care. I can't give her my schedule or anything else. I have been trusted with responsibility before and failed.

After washing my hands, I eat a dry chicken salad without dressing for dinner. It hurts to swallow, and I realize it is because I'm crying. I watch the clock and let myself fall apart. Soldiers aren't supposed to cry, but no one from my military days is here to see me.

_They're all dead. You killed them_. I push the thought away along with my bland dinner.

I quickly complete my other chores and lay down in my bed. It feels like a coffin because I am dead. The only time I live is when I'm with Isabella, and now that is tarnished. I wish I could go back and erase the day. Why does she have to ruin me?

The next day I am in a foul mood. I yell at several employees about problems that are not really important. Everyone avoids me like I have a contagious disease. I just want to scream and jump off a cliff. Suicide is easy, but I still have some pride.

My secretary Angela is the only one brave enough to seek me out. "Mr. Cullen, I just want to let you know the chartered bus will be here at six in the morning on Friday to drive us to Seattle. I also called and double checked on the hotel. We're all set."

I blink slowly until her face comes into focus. They are all faceless at first. "Good. You may go." She scurries away as quickly as possible.

_**~~TBH~~**_

"I'm so glad you called me over for dinner. I attended your mother's art show last week, and we both missed you."

I look over at Tanya as she fiddles with the pink cardigan around her neck. Her father and my father are business partners. It has always been Carlisle's dream to see us end up together. Tanya is sophisticated, educated, and polite. I can't stand her, but I occasionally endure her company.

We are in my living room waiting for the salmon to cook. Unfortunately, Tanya has to fill every quiet moment with endless chatter. Inwardly I am cringing, but outwardly I look like a perfect gentleman. She will give Esme a good report, and I will be left alone for another few weeks.

"So, Edward," Tanya purrs as she places her hand over my crotch. "I think I know what you need."

I sit very still. "What?"

She takes my flaccidness out and grips it in her hand. I don't harden until my mind wanders to Isabella. Tanya thinks it is for her and licks her lips. She holds me too tight and there's no moisture. It is almost painful, but I want to prove that Isabella doesn't own me. I can have a _Tanya Hour_. A few minutes later, I remove her hand.

"I need to finish up the pasta," I say, making a hasty retreat.

I stay in the kitchen longer than necessary to get myself under control. Tanya is considered a beautiful woman, but she does nothing for me. Her hair is too long and her scent too sweet. She is also a bit cold and reserved. With Isabella, I have fire.

Dinner is unpleasant. Tanya makes me drink a glass of the white wine she brought, even though I decline several times. She notices me watching the clock and frowns. I quickly put on a fake smile and ask her about her job, which seems to relax her.

By ten to nine, I am walking Tanya Denali to the door. Isabella is across the street looking at us from her balcony. Deciding that this is the perfect opportunity to rid myself of my obsession, I pull Tanya in for a kiss. I even let my hands squeeze her backside. She presses her body to me wantonly and moans. I watch Isabella's face the whole time-she is upset.

"Do you want me to stay?" Tanya asks with a hopeful gleam in her sea blue eyes.

"No. We can do this again next week. Goodnight, Tanya."

After she drives away in her BMW, Isabella marches over to my house. "Who was that?" she asks.

I shrug. "My new girlfriend. It's really none of your business."

She plays with a frayed edge of the old t-shirt she is wearing. "Your new girlfriend looks like a Stepford Wife. I bet she'll make you very happy."

Ignoring her tantrum, I walk up the steps. "It's almost nine so I would appreciate it if you went home now."

Isabella laughs. "I'm in the mood for a DP tonight. I want one cock in my ass and one in my pussy. I think I'll call Quil and Embry. Care to watch?"

I ball my fists up. "Thanks, but I've already seen you get _fucked _like a dirty whore. Goodnight, Isabella."

I climb into bed but sleep escapes me. Soon, I go to the window and take out my telescope. Isabella is on the balcony with a red-headed woman. They are both drinking, and I notice the redhead is wearing a strap-on. Isabella opens her legs as the other woman goes down on her.

I am disgusted, but I can't move. The woman works Isabella until she comes. Then, she takes Isabella's seat in the patio lounger. They share a passionate kiss that makes me twitch and leak. The woman roughly pulls Isabella down onto her lap. They adjust themselves and the redhead begins thrusting. She slaps and tugs on Isabella's nipples until she leaves marks. From what I can see, Isabella is screaming. The redhead makes her get down on all fours and rides her doggy style while pulling her hair.

Soon, Isabella is spent and they trade places. The redhead is at least six inches and about twenty pounds bigger than Isabella. Her hair is like fire, but it is too long for my taste. Soon, Isabella gives the redhead her very own orgasm. Afterwards, they lay spent in each other's arms.

Without even noticing it, I come in my pants. Cursing myself, I go into the bathroom to wash up and change. When I come back, the women are no longer on the balcony. I climb into bed just as my cell phone buzzes with a text message:

_**The boys were busy, so I called Victoria. I hope you liked the show. - Isabella**_

_**~~TBH~~**_

_**e**_

"Wow is that Isabella Swan?" Mike asks as he sits by me on the bus. I am not sure why I am looking at her old videos on Youtube.

I nod. "What do you want, Mr. Newton?" He is one of my lead IT guys and an overgrown frat boy.

"You live next door to her, right?" He points to my laptop screen.

"She is my neighbor, but we hardly know each other." I want to punch him in the face.

"Well... could you introduce us? I saw her in the supermarket one day, but I was too nervous to talk to her. She's just so beautiful...and like walking sex." He ends his sentence with a nervous giggle.

"From what I hear, she makes friends easily. There are always different men's cars parked in her driveway. Be careful." Isabella is not exclusive to me, so I don't care if he becomes her next plaything.

He ponders this quietly. "She seems kind of high maintenance, though. I'll have to feel it out." I am relieved when he vacates the seat, leaving me alone.

We arrive in Seattle a little after eleven. I depart from the group and check into my room. I have paid for a higher end corner suite because I value my privacy. My employees are loud and boisterous on these tech weekends, and I have no plans to join in with their party.

The conferences are long and boring, but I make several new business contacts. Riley always used to say I was too handsome for my own good; and it is never more obvious than when I attend these events. Women touch my shoulder and smile at me like I am their personal sex god.

I use a modified schedule and keep my eyes on my watch. Time keeps me sane, and I desperately need that these days. Isabella is ruining what little is left of my life. I want her almost every second. She is not good for me.

After a workout at the fitness center, I make my way back to the room. It is strange to see men and women chatting around me-I always feel so foreign from these people.

Unfortunately, there is a surprise waiting for waiting for me in my room.

"Surprised to see me, Colonel?" she asks excitedly.

I swallow hard. "It's six and we're not in Forks. Go home."

She struts over and places my hands on her tiny waist. "Make me."

All I can think of is how she looked with the redhead between her thighs. I drag her over to the dresser and push her roughly down on the surface. She is only wearing a black corset, her breasts pushed up high, and heels.

I rip her underwear off. She's already very wet, like she's been playing with herself. I am angrier than usual and thrust so hard we shake the dresser. I look into the mirror and watch myself fuck Isabella. My green eyes flash darkly as the muscles in my arms and abs move and tighten.

"Yes! This is what I wanted," Isabella shouts, while pushing back against me.

I pull her hair, glad that she has worn it natural today. "Shut up!"

She keens and her vaginal muscles clench my cock. I know it will be over soon. Four thrusts later, I come so hard my balls feel as if they are breaking apart. I dislodge and pull out. Isabella is still lying against the wood trying to catch her breath. I break the clasps on her corset, letting it fall at her feet.

I am livid about what she's done. My schedule is ruined. In a fit of rage, I grab her by the hair and drag her across the carpet. She is whimpering and crying, but I don't care. I open the door and throw her out into the hallway.

"There are plenty of single men in these rooms, you filthy slut," I say menacingly. "I'm sure you can find some willing participants. Hey, maybe you could even charge and make some extra cash."

As she sobs, I slam the door and run to the bathroom. I make it to the toilet before the dry heaves begin. I have not eaten anything today except oatmeal and fruit. After I feel that I will not vomit, I close the toilet seat and lay my head against the cold porcelain. The wall clock tells me it is just after seven-thirty.

Suddenly overcome by remorse and guilt, I stand up and run to the door. Isabella is sitting right by the door wrapped in a small towel. She has tear marks on her cheeks and is shivering. I bend down and pick her up carefully.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I shut the door.

I put her on the bed and go run a bath in the Jacuzzi tub, using the hotel spa's jasmine and vanilla bubble bath. Soon the sweet scent permeates the entire space. I return to the room and get Isabella. She has not spoken or moved-it is frightening.

I gently wash her body and her hair while murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"He used to bathe me... It started when I was thirteen. I liked it."

I do not want to know. But I have been cruel, so I owe her this. "Who?"

"Mother's French lover Philippe. When my father traveled for business, he lived with us. Mother loved him more than she loved my father, but he was too poor to keep her in the pampered lifestyle."

I use a sponge and wash around her collarbone area. "Tell me more." It hurts to say the words.

"Philippe liked to pretend he was my father. I called him daddy, and he called me little girl. He insisted I always wear white panties for him. Mother even asked why I always bought the same color, but I just played coy."

"On Halloween night that year, mother threw a big party. Philippe got her drunk and high enough so that she passed out rather early. Then he came to my room. I was laying in bed with those white panties and nothing else. He pulled out his short thick cock and popped my cherry. It was glorious." Her eyes go glassy at the memory.

"We found ways to be together. Mother was going through menopause, so she had little use for Philippe's sexual appetite. I picked up the slack, and in return, he taught me about my body. Sometimes, he liked to watch me fuck a boy from school. He'd hide in the closet and then spank me for being dirty afterwards."

I lower the sponge into the suds again. "I don't think I can stand to hear anymore."

She ignores me and keeps going. "Over time, we got reckless. Mother caught us fucking in her bed. She threw a vase at Philippe and attacked me. The maid and gardener had to pry her off. The next day, Philippe's friend gave me a message that he was going home to France."

I feel as if I want to vomit again.

After a short pause, Bella continues. "Long story short, Philippe saw boudoir photos of me online. By then I was eighteen and had my trust fund. He invited me to come to Paris and meet his burlesque dancer friend. I sold all my stuff and hopped on a plane."

"His friend, Rosalie, was the most beautiful woman I'd seen in my life. I was immediately attracted to her. She let me kiss and fondle her breasts but nothing more. Rosalie is a cross between a wet dream and an angel. Her breasts are almost the size of my head and she is six-foot tall without heels. If you saw her, you would cream yourself."

I stand up to get a kink out of my leg. "I don't like that type."

Isabella smiles at me. "Rose is also blonde with blue eyes that make you want to tell her all your secrets. If her boyfriend hadn't of been so possessive, I would have willingly pleasured her every single day."

"Do you sleep with lots of women?" _God, where is this coming from?_

"No. Rosalie and Victoria are the only ones I've ever been sexually attracted to in my life. They are without gender to me, and both of them prefer men."

She plays with her nipples as she speaks. "Eventually, Rose taught me everything about burlesque, and I became a hit. I learned how to make men want me so bad they were willing to do anything. I loved being the center of attention."

The water is getting cold so I lift her out. She clings to me as I towel dry her body and pull one of my blue t-shirts over her head. I hear her sigh as she slips under the sheets. I don't like hotel bedding, so I've had the maid put on a set I bought from home.

I order Italian for dinner. Isabella argues, but I soon learn she has a weakness for mushroom ravioli. I get the lasagna. We sit in silence while we wait for dinner. She doesn't look my way or touch me. I decide to give her space.

The food is delicious. It has been so long since I have had something savory. Isabella picks at her meal until I give her a stern look. She is tiny and needs to eat—a few extra pounds will not make her any less attractive. I speak my thoughts aloud, and she seems pleased.

We are mindlessly watching something on the television when she turns to me. "I lied, Edward. I wasn't on my period. I had a miscarriage a few years ago and they had to give me an emergency hysterectomy. I'm...I'm barren. I can't have children."

"Whose was it?" I blurt out stupidly.

"A man named Vladimir. We had a fling in Moscow. I wasn't careful."

For some reason, I kiss her exposed shoulder. "It's better this way. Life is cruel."

We are quiet for several minutes, each of us contemplating our pasts.

"Next time, you have to tell me about your life Edward Cullen," she says, yawning.

Images of the war bombard my memory: Rotting flesh. Children's limbs scattered in the desert. Mutilated women. The sounds of bullets whizzing past my ears and grenades detonating. The cries of the dying. I do not want to add to Bella's burdens by telling her of all these horrific things.

"I'm a killer. I even killed my brother," I whisper. "He looked at me like I was his hero. I failed them all…"

Isabella puts her hand over my thundering heart and says, "There is always more to the story. You'll tell me when you're ready." I am strangely comforted by her words.

Later in the night, she has a nightmare and begins crying. I crawl over, lift the t-shirt up to her stomach, and slowly enter her body. She immediately calms and watches me lazily while sucking her thumb. Staring down at her, I roll my hips and hum a soothing song Esme used to sing to Riley when he was a baby.

Tonight, we are just two damaged souls in a coffin disguised as a bed.

* * *

><p><em>Well, it's more hopeful than last time. Maybe I'll let Edward tell his story one day. Please review.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **There is only one more chapter for this fic. I just meant it for an one shot in the first place. Thanks to everyone that read._

_This story contains disturbing and very mature content. Please proceed with caution._

* * *

><p>5:30 AM Wake up<p>

6:00 AM Running and exercise

7:00 AM Shower and get dressed

7:30 AM` Eat breakfast and Misc.

8:30 AM Arrive at office

12:00 PM Lunch

12:30 PM Answer personal emails

5:00 PM End workday

5:30 PM Errands

6:00 PM Watch television or play X-Box

**7:00 PM The Bella Hour**

**8:00 PM Dinner with Bella**

8:30 PM Reading

9:00 PM Morning preparation

9:30 PM Feed the fish and lock up

10:00 PM Sleep

* * *

><p><em><strong>EPOV<strong>_

"Do you know how many calories are in the casserole?" Bella asks as I remove dinner from the oven.

I sigh heavily not wanting to start an argument after the great sex we just had upstairs.

"Don't worry about it. You are getting far to skinny for my taste," I say.

Bella stares at me for a minute before going to set the table.

At first, I tell myself I give her an extra hour to make sure she eats. The truth is I want more time with Bella. I hate that she now owns an even bigger part of my schedule. I can't seem to give her up, though.

Oh a whim, I decide to use the plates Esme bought as a housewarming gift for my move to Forks. I give Bella a large helping of Chicken Royale-she has not been eating much the last few days. I do not like to feel protruding ribs when I am on top of her in bed.

After adding salad to the bowls and hot rolls to each plate, I sit down across from Bella. She's only wearing one of my old Army tees. Her natural hair looks dull under the harsh kitchen lighting. I stand up and adjust the dimmer to a more flattering setting.

Bella takes a small bite and pushes her plate aside. "It's really good, Edward. Thanks."

"Clean your plate." It is a command, not a request.

"Um, can I just have some wine. I really don't need..."

I pound my fist against the table, startling Bella. "I gave you this extra half an hour. The least you can do is eat the food I make for you!"

Something ugly and scary flashes in her eyes before she begins scarfing down everything. I quietly eat and manage to keep both of our glasses filled with lemon water. Bella never once looks at me until her plate is clean.

After a while, she puts her dishes in the sink. "Um, I need to use the restroom." She's out of the kitchen before I can speak.

I wait five minutes before going to check up on her. The guest bathroom door is closed, and I can hear retching noises inside. Angrily, I pound on the door yelling, "Open up, Isabella!"

The sound of a toilet flushing and running water greet me before she complies. I grab her, throwing her over my shoulder. Then I run down the stairs and place her on the couch. Being in the Army prepared me for many things, but Bella is a challenge.

"Stay there. I'll be right back," I say calmly, which is a feat considering there is a war in my belly.

When I return, Bella has tears in her eyes. She looks small and vulnerable. I know she is anorexic and bulimic. She often weighs herself after we have sex.

Wordlessly, I hand her a brand new steaming hot plate of Chicken Royale. She stands up, throws the plate across the room, and runs to the front door. Of course I chase her.

"Fuck you," she snarls, her dark eyes blazing.

I snicker. "You already did, you little whore."

Bella removes the Army shirt, leaving her naked. While I glare, she reaches up and unbuckles my pants. I am ashamed to see my cock is rock hard. At my age, I should not be able to have so many erections.

"If I have to eat, I choose to eat this," she purrs seductively. Her pink tongue teases the tip of my cock. We both know I can't resist a good blowjob.

"Fine."

She puts a lot of effort into it, playing with my balls and pressing her fingers in to my buttocks. I ram my cock down her throat, because I am mad she has won this round. I know she still needs to eat real food, but I'm too far gone in my own pleasure to care.

Reaching down, I tug her hair. "You nasty little bitch. Do you throw up my cum like you do everything else?" I ask, grunting hard as she massages my prostate.

"Nah. Spunk is fat-free."

I slam my pelvis against her mouth several times, not even caring if she can breathe. Soon I watch her eyes begin to water. I come gloriously, shooting load after load of cum down Bella's throat. She struggles to swallow it all before letting me go with a pop.

My legs almost give out, so I lean heavily against the door. Bella lays down on the floor and begins playing with her cunt. Her clitoris is very red and swollen.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Daddy?" she asks while sucking her thumb. "I'm so horny for your dick."

The grandfather clock chimes, alerting me to the fact that it is eight-thirty. Our time is up.

"Go home, Isabella. I'm sure you can find a way to take care of your little problem," I say gesturing to her leaking center.

She picks up the Army shirt and puts it on before leaving the house. I watch from the porch as she runs across the road barefoot. When I see her get inside safely, I close my door and head to the kitchen. The remnants of dinner are still on the table. I busy myself with cleaning, forgoing my reading time.

There are three new messages from Esme begging me to come for a visit. I delete them all. I do not need family drama. Bella alone is enough to take whatever sanity I have left. Thinking of the way I treat Bella makes me sad, so I decide to call her.

She answers on the third ring, "What do you want?"

I shrug, fully aware she can't see me over the phone. "We have a lot of leftovers, and you still need to eat-."

Bella laughs. "Don't pretend you care about me, Edward. I'm just a willing and eager pussy for you. That's all I'll ever be to any man."

Her words hurt. I know deep in my heart they aren't true. "Damn right," I lie.

She's quiet for a long time. "I don't need your stupid extra thirty minutes. Let's just go back to my regular hour."

I see red. "You bitch! I give you... It's all... I don't want to see you ever again!" I scream before hanging up.

Bella never calls back. Eventually, I take a Xanax and go to bed. The nightmares come strong and vivid. I deserve them all for the way I treated Bella tonight and for the way I always treat her. I could not take care of Riley and my men, so I know damn well I can never take care of Bella.

**~~~TBH~~~**

The next month is miserable. Bella refuses my calls. I go by her house several times, but she does not answer the door. Even worse are the guests coming and going at all times of night. I tried to look into her house with my binoculars, but she has had thick drapes installed. I leave food on her porch each day and each night I return home I find it dumped in my bushes.

Work is the only thing keeping me from putting the gun in my mouth again. Without Bella, seven o'clock becomes unbearable. I replay the past in my head and then eat bland dinners. My cock gets hard sometimes, but I ignore the pain in my balls.

In the morning, I run until my lungs feel like they are going to burst. I glance at Bella's driveway filled with luxury European cars. I vaguely notice the vehicles all have Italian flags. Shivering, I continue my run as it begins to rain.

At work, I am a tyrant. Angela Weber hands in her letter of resignation. I find out Mike Newton is applying for a job at a rival IT firm. Several of the new hires stop coming to work. I sit and listen quietly as the Human Resources manager chastises me. I don't even care about the business or the money anymore. All I want is 'The Bella Hour'.

"Mr. Cullen, I know your background is military, but these people are not soldiers," Mrs. Cope says gently, trying to get me to open up.

I rub my head, trying in vain to get rid of a migraine. "I know. I have decided to take a sabbatical. See if you can get Angela Weber and the new hires back. Offer them a bonus or a higher salary."

Mrs. Cope looks shocked. "Well, that's very generous of you. Um, I'll get them on the phone."

I nod and stand up. "You can reach me on my personal line if you have any problems."

On the way back to my office, I stop at Ben Cheney's cubicle. He's one of my senior employees, and he also has a crush on Weber. I tell him I am taking a break and want him to be in charge of the top projects while I'm gone. He only accepts after I tell him I'll be available by email and phone in case of an emergency.

For the first time in years, I break my schedule. I drive to the best pizza place in Forks, picking up an extra large with the works. Then I buy a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of good wine, and a box of Whitman's chocolates. The cashier looks at me as if I've grown two heads. I have not deviated from the same grocery list in years.

When I get home, I set everything up in the dining room. Next, I go upstairs and take a shower. The hot water feels good on my tense muscles. After I get out, I take two Advil and dress in casual slacks and a tee shirt. Looking at myself in the mirror, I dab cologne in the right places.

"Not bad for a forty-four-year-old," I mumble. I have been told I look ten or fifteen years younger than my actual age; though, I feel a lot more ancient.

_**~~~TBH~~~**_

By the time I get to Bella's house, it's dark except for a small sliver of moonlight. Thankfully, her outdoor lights turn on the minute I reach the lawn. I hear moaning and other sex noises. Feeling slightly queasy, I follow the sound all the way to the backyard.

A man with slicked back dark hair is lying on a chaise while a very young girl bounces up and down on him. I feel murderous-the girl can't be more than fourteen. _What kind of sick things are going on at Bella's lately? _

I run across the lawn, but before I can reach the pedophile, I am subdued by several strong arms. I fight and snarl until an accented voice yells, "Enough!" I turn around to see the pedophile tying his robe as the girl laughs.

"I'm going to kill you, you sick bastard!" I scream. "Where the hell is Bella?"

The girl, who is only wearing a thin piece of lingerie, spreads her legs wide. I look away in disgust as the pedophile openly gapes at her. "Close your legs, dear," he says sweetly. "I think Bella's_ friend_ has the wrong idea."

The girl pouts but does as she's told. "He's so pretty, Daddy. Can I play with him?"

I snarl. "Unlike this sick fucker, I don't have sex with children."

The pedophile laughs. "I assure you, Jane is no child. She's twenty-six. The girl grabs something from her purse and skips over. Then she shoves a passport in my hand. She is indeed an adult.

"But...but she looks so young," I stammer.

Jane giggles, "I'm daddy's little girl. He takes very good care of me. Aro has a thing for grown women that look like young girls."

I suddenly feel queasy.

The dark haired man holds out his hand-expensive rings adorn every finger. "Aro Volturi. Jane and I are old friends of Bella's. We have business in Seattle this weekend, so we decided to stop over and visit."

I ignore his offer of a handshake. Jane pulls up the hem of her gown and winks at me. "Daddy lets me play with others sometimes, but he hasn't been in a sharing mood lately."

Volturi smacks her on the buttocks. "I told my little girl I would only share her with her favorite doll. Bella always made my Jane so happy."

I remember Bella telling me she has only been with two women, and neither of them was named Jane. Looking at Volturi, I can tell he is into some sick stuff. His guards openly stare at Jane and touch their cocks while he smiles happily.

I step forward, my fists ready to strike. "Did she make you happy, too?" I ask Volturi.

He nods. "Oh yes. Bella is very good at making men happy. She's upstairs doing just that right now."

Part of me says I should just go back home. I mean, it's not like Bella is exclusive to me. Still, I am beginning to realize I need her. The schedule can't be all I live for anymore. I'm so tired of being alone.

Scowling, I jog upstairs. What I see in Bella's room even manages to shock me. She's facedown naked on the bed, liquor bottles and pills strewn everywhere. There's a man in her cunt, another in her ass, and two using her hands to work their cocks. She appears to be barely cognitive.

A big guy with dimples winks at me. "You want to fuck her ass? I got her nice and open," he offers, showing me her anus.

"Edward?" Bella asks, slurring the word. "S'kay. I can fit you in." This makes the pigs laugh harder.

A calmness I haven't felt since Riley's death settles over me. "I'm giving you all five minutes to get the fuck out of Forks. If I ever see you here or near Bella again, I'll murder you all."

Two of the dirtbags try to grab me. I quickly break their kneecaps. I stomp on bodies and bones until everything is red and hazy. Sometime later, I hear what sounds like Jane screaming. She calls for Aro. He looks around the room before quietly accessing me.

"I could use your skills," he says, a sinister smile on his face.

I stare into his cold black eyes. "Get the fuck out before I kill you."

Two of his guards step forward, but he halts them. "We'll leave.

Angry beyond words, I watch as he walks over and kisses Bella's hand. "It's been a pleasure. If you ever want to come live with Jane and I, we are always willing to have you."

Jane pouts and kisses Bella's cheek. "No other doll I've had comes close to you. Come see me sometimes. I get so bored in that big mansion with Daddy."

"Get out!" I shout. My patience is gone for good.

The ones that can walk help the injured downstairs. Several of them glare at me. They are lucky I didn't castrate them. I have been trained in torture tactics and still own a few military instruments. I am not afraid of some overgrown Italian thugs.

When they are gone, I collapse next to Bella's bed. She has passed out-sweaty and covered in dried cum. I slap her cheek until her eyes flutter open. It's obvious she is high as a kite.

"I'm empty. Come fill me up, baby," she pleads. "I missed you."

I feel a tear fall down my cheek. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have left you... I'm going to take care of you from now on."

After getting myself under control, I pick Bella up and take her to the bathroom. I position her over the toilet and stick my fingers down her throat. She vomits violently, cursing me between spewing. When she's only down to dry heaves, I turn on the shower.

"Fuck you! Why did you make my friends leave? I don't need you, Edward." Her voice is very raw and raspy.

"I need you," I confess quietly.

While she's momentarily stunned into silence, I lift her off the ground. Then I place her on the shower seat and strip before climbing inside. Bella just sits there looking defeated. I wash her body and hair thoroughly. She doesn't try to help or fight me.

It hurts to see all the bruises on her porcelain skin. I am sometimes rough with Bella, but those men were animals. I am exceeding gently as I wash her private areas. She's red down there, so I figure it has to be sore.

"I'm sorry, Bella. Never again. I'll never leave you again," I promise, kissing the side of her mouth.

She glares at me, her eyes as hard as flint. "What about your precious schedule?"

I kiss her again. "It's gone. You can have all my hours."

"I don't believe you," she whispers before finally pushing me away.

"Then I'll just have to work hard until you do."

Half an hour later, I am done packing everything Bella will need. I have decided I can't leave her alone here, so I am taking her over to my home. She argues weakly at first but soon gives up and begins to doze.

I don't pack corsets, or wigs, or the videos. I am going to help Bella conquer her demons, and maybe she will help me conquer mine. We started out all wrong, but I have hope.

_**~~~TBH~~**_

I feed Bella the last of a Greek omelet on toast, smiling as she takes it eagerly. After almost two weeks, her weight is up. She also hasn't had any pills or alcohol. I spend all my hours making her feel treasured and loved.

We are in bed watching some comedy on television. Bella is between my legs, her back pressed to my front. I kiss her neck before setting the tray on the nightstand. Her hair has luster again, and she looks much healthier.

I wrap my arms around her small body. "I should have taken care of you, but I was so scared... Riley died..."

Bella silences me with a sweet kiss. "You're here now," she says. "It's just no one... My own mother can't stand the sight of me."

I lean forward to kiss her forehead. "Forget about her. Forget about all of them."

She sighs. "I wish I could, Edward. Will you ever tell me about Riley?"

"I'm not ready yet," I whisper. "I promise I will one day."

Bella nods, seemingly okay with my answer.

Fortunately, she quickly changes the subject. "I still can't believe you're forty-four," she says, chuckling.

My fingers ghost over her bare thigh. "I'm still young enough to please your twenty-nine-year-old body."

She grins. "That's not what... You just look so much younger."

"Thank you," I say, oddly pleased with her compliment.

It's quiet for a long time, and then Bella asks if we are having sex tonight. We haven't done more than kissing and some heavy petting since I moved her into my house. Bella has since been checked out by a private doctor and is physically fine but mentally...

At night after a nightmare, she often takes off her clothes and climbs on top of me. She also insists on only wearing white panties, and more than once she has called me 'Daddy'. Sadly, I watch her suck her thumb as she waits for my answer.

"We both need help, Bella," I say gently. "There's a place in Alaska where people deal with...issues."

"Rehab?" she asks, pulling away.

"No, it's more like a meditation and healing retreat. We'll share a cabin, get healthy, and try to defeat our demons. I can't do it without you. Please, let's do this together."

I spend the rest of the night showing Bella the information I've collected online. We will be able to come and go as we please. The place is near mountains and has beautiful views. Eventually, she agrees that we should give it a try.

Around five in the morning, I am awakened by Bella pulling down my boxers. I can't fight her anymore, especially not when her eyes look so haunted. I roll over, sucking a nipple into my mouth. We make love until the first rays of light begin to show through the window.

"Say it," Bella begs, her nails digging into my back. "Choke me."

"Never! I told you I never hated you... I'll never say those cruel words to you again."

"Please!" I crash my mouth against hers. "Please, Edward." She is breaking my heart.

I take a leap of faith. "I love you, Bella. You are a beautiful priceless treasure. I want you to live a long life with me.

She doesn't orgasm, but I can't hold back. Her body is still while she lets me finish. Then, she scurries off to the bathroom. I have removed all pills and razors, but I listen to make sure she is not vomiting.

"I'm really tired," she mumbles before crawling into bed.

I rub circles on her back, noticing the stiff way she is laying. "I really do love you, Bella."

She does not speak to me for the next two days.

* * *

><p><em>Please review.<em>


End file.
